Mt. Kinesava

My legs weren't as dead as expected the morning after my adventures on Lost Peak and Company, so I decided to get outside once again to see some more sights and sounds. Laying in bed, my mind wandered around, trying to figure out what I was gonna do. I started thinking about the drive through Springdale on the way into the park, remembering the various peaks rising on opposite sides of the valley. One peak, the magnificent Mt. Kinesava, held particular interest to me, so I figured that I might as well give it a try. I'd known about this peak for a while, having read various trip reports on it in the past, living vicariously through those who had braved its summit. Whelp, it was my turn to climb it now, so I quickly brushed up on those old reports, grabbed my pack, and then set off for the Chinle Trailhead, the skies overcast, the parking lot vacant.

I started hiking at 8:40am, not as early as I would've liked but the weather was supposed to be gorgeous so it didn't really matter. Walking along, the trail wound its way through a private neighborhood, slowly gaining elevation, heading closer and closer to the national park boundary. After one final road crossing the trail continued straight, the expensive-looking houses receding in the background, the massive cliffs guarding the summit of Mt. Kinesava rising in the distance. 

I wasn't sure when to leave the trail, so I followed it all the way to the park boundary, crossing the gate and beginning my wanderings through open country. I headed towards a small ridge in the distance; sometimes I'd see footprints, sometimes a faint use trail, but then they would disappear and I'd be back to wandering, creating my own path through the desert. Weaving around sage and sand, I finally made it to the ridge, picking up a use trail and following it to the top. Once at the top I followed the path until it disappeared yet again, now heading towards a second steep ridge rising in the distance.

Desert wandering

Heading up the 2nd steep ridge

This 2nd ridge was MUCH steeper than the first. There was a well-marked use trail on it, the route as obvious as a seven-lane highway. Just had to go up; most of it steep, loose, sandy, crumbly. I took a quick breather about halfway up, the views already amazing. The sky was still overcast, the weather still nice and cool, the breeze still strong enough to wick away my sweat. Yep. The day was shaping to be a good one. All I had to do was keep going. So I did.

Once at the top of the ridge the use-trail disappeared yet again, which meant it was back to the usual desert wandering. Maybe I'm just really bad at following use trails. I don't know. Sometimes it would be there, sometimes I'd see a cairn or two, but for the most part I was just sloggin' it through rocks and sand. I headed towards the base of the cliffs, aiming for a line of trees that marked the start of the climb. Up and up, I gained another small ridge, the route to the top marked with several cairns. I was finally able to stick to a use path, following it all the way to the base of the cliffs. A quick water and snack break later and I was up and away, happy to finally be done with the long slog through the desert.

Start of the climb

The use path through the cliffs was excellent; very obvious where to go. I followed it for a bit before encountering the first of a few class 3 obstacles. A fun scramble later and I was back on the trail, heading upward through a weakness in the cliffs. So far, the exposure hadn't been bad at all; just a jolly ol' walk through rocks and trees. 

And then I came upon the famous "catwalk" that some folks had mentioned in their trip reports. A somewhat narrow ledge hugging the side of a cliff with a good 50ft drop on one side; sounds bad but it wasn't nearly as scary as some people made it seem in their reports. I followed the trail, downclimbed to the catwalk, walked across it, and then continued on my merry way. No biggie, no sweat. 

Class 3 obstacle

Soon after traversing "the catwalk," I encountered the crux of the route: a short, unexposed class 4 obstacle that required a wee bit of brain power to overcome. I had heard that most people "stem" up the obstacle but I don't know what that means so I improvised and somehow got up the thing. After that, I continued following the cairns, walking up a steep, loose, sandy path all the way to the class 3 exit crack.

Headin' up...

Exit crack

The exit crack was not marked, but it presented the only logical way forward because if you kept going up you'd soon run into a steep cliff. So climbed up the crack, noticing a cairn at the top. This would be useful on the way back; finding the right point to enter the weakness in the cliffs would be critical for a successful descent. I moved through some brush, Mt. Kinesava's pointy white summit finally coming into view. Ahh yes. Almost there!

Mt. Kinesava

Headin' up...

I followed a use trail away from the exit crack, wandering between two gnarly trees. These would serve as important landmarks for my return. As I wandered through the sage, heading towards the base of Mt. Kinesava, I'd turn around every now and then to burn the location of those two trees into my mind. Thems were my exit trees. Couldn't forget 'em. 

Soon I was at the base of Mt. Kinesava, which meant it was time for the final push to the summit. I tended to stay to the right, avoiding some steep, scary terrain in the middle. Plus I'd run across the occasional cairn, so I must've been doing something right. A steep, fairly loose and crumbly scramble later and I had finally made it to the top. 

Northeast

Southeast

South

West

Northwest

The views did not disappoint. I dropped my pack, took a swig of water, and enjoyed my time, gazing upon the stupendous scenery that stretched out before me. To the northeast rose the magnificent West Temple, the route to its summit looking scary, crumbly, and no fun at all. Moving east I could see much of the main Zion Canyon, as well as a smattering of peaks on the opposite rim. Down below lay the town of Springdale, the buildings tiny, the cars microscopic. 

Continuing southward revealed the highpoint of Cowboy Ridge, a much more adventurous way to gain the summit of Kinesava that involves much more exposed scrambling and a few instances of vertical rock climbing. Off to the west sprawled more desert, more sand and rock, the tiny town of Virgin blending into the surrounding country, Hurricane and St. George nowhere to be seen. I'm sure it would be a different story at night, but in the daytime, with my untrained nearsighted vision, it was quite tricky to distinguish these towns in the vast expanse of beige and red and green.

And finally, off to the northwest, rose the various peaks and pinnacles of the Zion backcountry, the terrain so rugged and preposterous it scared me just to look at it. So I drank some water, inhaled some calories, took wayyy too many pictures. These were some of the best views I'd ever seen; the climb was totally worth it. But I couldn't stay forever. Had to climb back down eventually. Had to go to the store, buy some groceries, do some laundry, stuff like that. So I reluctantly said my goodbyes to the summit, took in the views one last time, and then carefully made my way back down.

Before heading back to the exit crack I decided to do a little more exploring, wandering around in search of some petroglyphs some folks had mentioned in their trip reports. They were pretty easy to find, but I ain't gonna say exactly where. Despite hundreds of years of exposure to the elements, they still looked pretty good, depicting a scene that I could never truly understand. It seems like the difficult approach just to see these petroglyphs has spared them from damage and defacement. That being said, if you ever decide to make the trek yourself, please treat this site with respect. Like I mentioned in my previous post: behave as if you were in a museum. No touchy touchy! 

After seeing the petroglyphs, I decided to climb up to the highpoint of Cowboy Ridge. There was no reason for this; perhaps I could make the argument that I wanted to climb it in order to gain a different perspective of Kinesava and the West Temple, but the truth is I am quite stupid and simply climbed it for the sake of climbing it. A short, easy scramble later and I was on the flat summit, the views pretty good but nowhere near as amazing as those on Kinesava. There were, however, these strange, brownish, rectangular rocks scattered around the summit, a sight that tickled my curiosity. Since I'm no geologist, I had no idea what these rocks were, how they got there or why they were even there in the first place. I picked one up, sat it down, it made a clinking noise, my caveman brain was satisfied, and then I walked away, heading towards my two exit trees. 

Cowboy Ridge highpoint

Kinesava and West Temple from Cowboy Ridge HP

Pretty good views

I walked past the trees, saw the cairn, climbed down the exit crack, and then began the fun descent. For whatever reason, it was a lot easier navigation-wise on the way down than on the way up. I carefully made my way down the loose, sandy stuff, following cairns I didn't notice earlier that morning. Soon I was on top of the class 4 obstacle; I shimmied down that thing lickety-split, easy peasy, lemon mcsqueezy. And then it was on to the catwalk, and after that, a meandering descent on a well-worn use trail back to the base of the cliffs. I made a wrong turn at one point, having to back track a little bit in order to stay on route. But other than that it was easy going, and soon I was off the cliffs and back in the rocks and sand, trudging my way through the desert towards the Chinle trail. 

Headin' back...

Looking down the class 4 obstacle

Back to wandering...

The sun had finally made its appearance, breaking through the overcast skies, making everything just a tad more warm. Good thing it was all downhill; climbing up steep, loose, sandy stuff in the heat is no fun at all. I managed to do a better job following the use trail on the way back, sparing me from excessive desert wandering. I made sure to note various landmarks near the use trail in case I should ever repeat this trek again in the future. Gotta be efficient next time, you know?

Down, down, down, I eventually made it to the flatlands, now wandering through sagebrush and dirt and sand towards the park boundary. I entered a wash, followed it for a ways, ducked under the barbed wire fence marking the park boundary, climbed out of the wash, wandered around a little more, found the Chinle Trail, and then followed it the rest of the way back to the car. The whole endeavor took just over 5 hours, but it felt much longer. I sat in the car, rolled the windows down, thinking of nothing in particular, my mind filled with the usual hazy, peaceful effervesce that forms after doing something difficult yet satisfying. I drove off, riding back into town, Kinesava growing smaller in my rearview mirror. Man, what a mountain. One of the best I've ever had the privilege to visit. 

Lost Peak, The Triplets, The Fin

A couple of days ago on lucky ol' Friday the 13th I set off, once again, for Zion National Park. My excitement for the day was so extreme I didn't even eat breakfast. Just got up and got going lickety-split. I had no a set plan for the day; just wanted to do some off-trail exploring and check out some peaks in the process. Last week, on the summit of Nippletop, I recalled looking west and seeing a small collection of peaks that looked mighty interesting. Neat slickrock terrain, beautiful colors, hardy trees, cool lookin' rocks scattered everywhere—I just had to check them out. So with ideal weather in the forecast, I drove to the park and on through the famous mile-long tunnel, the sky dotted with fuzzy lookin' cirrus clouds. I pulled off the side of the road just before the 2nd tunnel, grabbed my gear, and then descended into a wash. The hike was on. 

Soft sand, gnarly manzanita, prickly bushes, gorgeous sandstone. No sound other than the occasional whoosh from a vehicle zooming up or down the highway. I walked in the wash, enjoying the cool morning air. I passed by this neat looking slot canyon, the whole thing brushy and filled with towering pine trees. Continuing along, I eventually left the wash and began ascending smooth, steep sandstone. Zigging and zagging, sometimes using my hands for balance, I rose higher and higher away from the wash, various Zion summits coming into view, all of them illuminated in the late-morning sunshine. 

Where I left the wash

The Ant Hill

Entering a slickrock bowl of sorts, I continued straight, heading towards Lost Peak. I soon saw its pointy summit in the distance, a brief bout of off-trail meandering later revealing its entire north ridge. Scanning the ridge, it looked like an interesting ascent up to an awesome view. I hurriedly made my way towards the base of the north ridge, wandering along animal trails, careful not to disturb the occasional patch of cryptobiotic soil. The closer I got to the peak, the more awesome it appeared. Once at the base, I immediately began ascending steep sandstone slabs, following a faint use trail when I could. 

Lost Peak

Some scrambling required

The climb up the ridge reminded me a lot of last week's ascent of Nippletop, mostly because it was steep and loose and crumbly and such. About halfway up or so I encountered a series of class 3/4 obstacles; some fun scrambling ensued. I'm sure there were ways to avoid these obstacles, but my lack of braincells had not the patience nor composure necessary for additional route finding. So I just climbed straight up the obstacles, scrambling with all four appendages on crumbly sandstone, swerving slightly to the east until finally reaching what I thought was the summit. 

There were two bumps up there, both of which looked to be equal in height. Since I had done zero research on this mountain I had no idea which bump was the true highpoint, so I checked out both of them just to be safe. Nice views of the Zion backcountry stretched off in all directions, with particularly excellent views of the Triplets and Nippletop to the east and the West Temple and Jenny Peak to the west.

Nippletop, The Triplets

View West

I sat down on the southern bump and had a nice breakfast of Clif Bar à la carte. Looking around, I tried to put names on some of the summits I could see in the distance, only able to name a few of them. And of course the very act of sitting on a summit and looking at other summits made me want to get out there and climb them. But there were too many, FAR too many to see, far too many to ever explore in a single lifetime. So many peaks, so many canyons, so many places to wander around and meander and roam, so many places to get good and lost and meditate on life and soak in the sun and listen to the wind ripping away the sandstone one granule at a time. It's a bit overwhelming, staring out at this landscape. I stopped thinking about it. Turned off my brain. Reapplied the zinc. Took another bite of the Clif Bar. Drank some water, swished it around and swallowed. Grabbed my pack, said goodbye and then headed back down, the scramble much more interesting on the descent. 

Once at the bottom, I veered west to check out a small bump of sandstone I had been eyeing on the descent: Lost Teton. The thing looked more like a giant lump of ice cream that fell out of the sky than a "teton," but hey, "Lost Teton" sounds a lot more cool than "Ice Cream Lump." I wandered over to its east face on several criss-crossing animal trails, the navigation straightforward and obvious. I picked the easiest way up the thing, encountering nothing worse than class 2 on the ascent. 

I reached the highpoint in good time, the views much the same as those seen on Lost Peak. I sat down and chugged some more water, gazing upon Lost Peak's west face. After about 4 minutes of mindless observation, I gathered my things and retraced my steps off the summit. 

Lost Teton

Interesting sandstone on Lost Teton

Lost Peak viewed from Lost Teton

Now it was time for the fun stuff. I worked my way back around Lost Peak's north ridge eyeing a collection of peaks to the east known as "The Triplets." The three white, crumbly, summits stood close together, looking like the petrified remains of some gigantic three-headed beast. Since they were so close to one another, I figured I'd attempt a traverse of all three peaks, going from west to east. Didn't really know what to expect other some obvious scrambling. The craziness of the scrambling was to be determined. I was excited to find out. 

The Triplets

But before I could attempt all that fun scrambling, I had to find my way over to the northwest face of the 1st Triplet. This involved traversing down steep slickrock slabs into a drainage and then climbing up out of the drainage towards the base of the peak. After a small amount of easy route-finding I had managed to make it to the base of the 1st Triplet, deciding to directly ascend the steep and crumbly slabs rather than go up an obvious gully. Going up the gully was probably the smarter move, but it looked brushy and tedious and the slabs looked interesting, so there you go. I carefully made my way up the slabs, navigating through some class 3 obstacles in the process. Before long I had made it to the saddle between the 1st Triplet and its smaller sub peak to the south. Not knowing which point was higher (just like on Lost Peak) I stupidly climbed the sub peak first, only to realize that it was indeed the shorter of the two. I corrected my mistake and soon I was standing on the 1st Triplet. One down, two to go. 

Ascending the steep northwest face of the 1st Triplet

Lost Peak viewed from the sub peak

The sub peak viewed from the 1st Triplet

I headed east, immediately running into the sheer eastern face the 1st Triplet. Man, I did NOT find the easiest way down that thing. I'm sure there's a way to keep it class 3, but I stupidly decided to navigate down a tricky move on a slanted slab with a tincy-wincy bit of exposure. But it was all good fun and I made it to the saddle and then the real challenge began: trying to find the way up to the 2nd Triplet.

East face of the 1st Triplet

At first I attempted to just go straight up the west face, but some class 4 moves on slanted sandstone slabs prevented me from doing so. If I had approach shoes I probably could've done it. My beat-up Altras with pieces of tread falling off probably weren't the best choice in footwear for the day but hey, you live and you learn. They simply lacked the traction and I found myself slipping on the steep slabs, a glaring indication that I needed to find an easier route. So I wrapped around to the south, trying to find a way up. 

I eventually found one, a series of class 2/3 slabs leading to the summit. The going was easy but the exposure was a tad concerning, just enough to get me to focus up and really test every hand and especially foothold I encountered. A quick bear crawl later and I was on the flat summit, the views much the same as on the 1st Triplet. Two down, one to go. 

The last Triplet viewed from the 2nd Triplet

I looked to the west and saw the remaining Triplet looming in the distance, the tallest of the three. The route to the summit looked a little sketchy, but I figured it couldn't be any worse than what I'd just done. So I carefully made my way off the 2nd Triplet, the going much easier on the descent. I was down at the saddle in a jiffy, staring up at the route ahead. It looked steep, but doable. I tightened my laces, straitened the tie, and then began the climb.

East face of 2nd Triplet

Headin' up the last Triplet

That last stretch to the summit was the best scrambling I'd done all day. Really, really fun; made the whole traverse worth it. Straightforward route, good holds, not too steep; just good, clean, beautiful class 3 scrambling. When I got to the top I was almost bummed that it was over. Almost. My legs were beginning to tire, and I was realizing that my 2nd Clif Bar would probably be just enough to get me through the day. Though more scrambling woulda been nice, it was gettin' to that point in the day where it was time to start wrapping things up. 

The summit

I sat down, chugged some water, took a few pictures, enjoyed the sights and sounds. Nippletop sat just to the northeast, its summit block clearly visible. Excellent views of the east rim of Zion Canyon could be seen to the north, the various cliffs and canyons glowing bright in the early-afternoon sunlight. After about seven minutes of filling my eyes to the brim with colors and shapes, I packed up my things and set off down the mountain, the descent of the northeastern face the easiest part of the traverse (in my opinion).

Looking back at the traverse

View east

Looking back at the descent off the final Triplet

I followed a faint use trail off the summit, sticking to the path of least resistance. When I eventually got to the bottom my legs weren't entirely dead, so I decided to check out a few more things, starting with the closest formation: The Fin. I hadn't done any research on this formation and from the looks of it the thing seemed pretty sketchy. I figured I might as well give it a try since I was in the area, so I made my way over to northwest face, finding a use trail that took me straight to the slabby cliffs. Pretty soon I encountered what I found to be the crux of the route, some class 3 downward-facing slabs with a fair amount of exposure to boot. I took it slowly carefully, making sure that I could actually get back down before I made any rash decisions to climb straight up the thing. Once past the crux the going was very steep, nothing easier than class 3. But soon I had reached the top of all that nonsense and it was easy walkin' the rest of the way to the high point. 

Looking down at the crux

The Fin

I reached the slanted high point, sat down, ate half of the Clif bar. The views were much the same as those on the tallest Triplet, although Nippletop was much, MUCH close now. Looking towards the tallest Triplet, I saw a small heard of bighorn sheep coasting down some slabs like it was nothing. Couldn't believe how fast they were going; they made it look so easy, like they were just out for an easy jog on the track or something.

The tallest Triplet viewed from The Fin

View west(ish)

Southeast

I didn't spend too much time on The Fin, just enough to stretch my legs and reapply the zinc and whatnot. As I was scanning the horizon, I noticed a little bump to the southeast, the provincial "Point of Compassion" no doubt. It was close by, and I was in the area, and it was still relatively early, so I thought "ehh, what the heck" and decided to check it out. A very slow and careful descent off The Fin later and I was on my way, wandering down a sandy wash, the weather still pleasant, not a single soul to be seen. 

"Point of Compassion"

I reached the Point of Compassion in no time, posting up on the comfy summit and eating the rest of the Clif Bar. I spent a good long while up there soaking in the views, spectacular slickrock terrain stretching as far as the eye could see. Though I felt no compassion, I certainly contemplated many things on this quiet summit, attempting to imagine the eons of time it took to form what I was now seeing in front of my face. I sat there on the sandstone, rubbing a small pebble in my hand, turning it into dust. What did this place look like a million years ago? A hundred million years? Five hundred million? And what will it look like in the future? What will happen to such a place?  Where will all this sand go? And what of the trees? What is to become of them? Far too much to think about. Far too much to contemplate. The majesty of the mountains puts you in your place and makes you feel insignificant, like you are no different than the grain of sand you're twirling in your fingers. Who needs the infinite expanse of the universe to make you feel small? All you need is a quick jaunt to the mountains. Simply bearing witness to them is overwhelming, especially for a brain as tiny as mine. So I stopped thinking and stared off into the distance, the sun warm on my skin, the sandstone gritty to the touch, the air clean and gentle on the nose, the breeze nearly inaudible. 

From left to right: The Triplets, The Fin, Nippletop

It's overwhelming!

West

And then it was time to go, so I retraced my steps back from whence I came. All that contemplation put me in an interesting mood, so I began to wander around, deviating from the standard route, just walking along and checking out bits and bobs as they passed on by. And wouldn't you know it? Found me some pictographs. I won't say where, but if you do manage to find them please don't do anything stupid with them. Behave as if you were in a museum. No touchy touchy. 

Here and there, up and down, I found my way back to the base of The Fin, deciding to reach one last high point for the day: the provincial "Temple View Point." It wasn't much of a climb, just an easy walk on sand and slabs to a nice overlook with great views of the surrounding country. It was a fantastic way to end the day; I could see every major summit I'd visited ( Lost Teton and the Point of Compassion were hidden unfortunately). I looked around, took a few more photos, and then began the long and scenic walk back to the car.

Tempe View Point

Nippletop (left) and The Fin (right)

The Triplets and Lost Peak

I descended down these beautiful red slickrock slabs, contouring around to the north of the Triplets, trying to find a way back into that drainage I'd visited earlier. Simple wandering and the occasional animal trail brought me there soon enough, and before I knew it I was climbing up out of the drainage, heading back to the familiar country I had explored that morning. 

On my way up I heard a voice, and the voice became a face, and the face said "Hello there." He was an old man wearing tan pants and a tan long sleeve shirt and a tan hat, and he was standing next to an old woman; they probably knew each other (just a guess bwahaha). We chatted a little bit, they telling me that they had gone up to Lost Peak and were heading back. They were the first and only people I'd see all day, which was strange since it was a Friday during Spring Break in one of the most popular National Parks in the country. We said our goodbyes, wished each other a good hike, and set off on our separate ways. 

Back in the wash...

I followed the steep slickrock terrain back into the wash I'd first visited in the morning, following it the rest of the way back to the car. Just as I was about to climb up to the road I heard a rustling noise, and there in the bushes were a couple of bighorn sheep munchin' on the grass, paying me no mind. I gave them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb their lunch. A short climb later and I was back to the car, back to the humdrum of civilization. 

It had been an excellent day in the sticks; couldn't have gone any better. Well, having proper shoes woulda made it SLIGHTLY better, but it was still pretty good. Wouldn't have had it any other way. Zion has definitely grabbed my attention; I'm slowly getting addicted to the place. So much to see, so much to do.